


Changing Colors

by Amikotsu



Series: HashiMada Files [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Growing Old Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Political Alliances, Rejection, Uchiha Madara Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: "Hey! I didn't welcome you into my house to eat my food!""You won't offer your guest any refreshments?""Hashirama.""Madara."Hashirama enters Madara's life like a hurricane. He didn't ask for the devastation. Oh how a simple meal can change everything.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: HashiMada Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743331
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	Changing Colors

**Author's Note:**

> HashiMada Happenings  
> Spring | Summer | Fall | Winter

The village had nearly doubled in size. Clans from across the Land of Fire had sought peace and refuge within the safe haven, where one clan became just as important as the other clans. Shinobi and civilians alike put aside their differences in the hopes that the unnamed village would be much more than buildings and streets, in the hopes that the small world, encompassed in a valley of large, thriving trees would become _home_. Hashirama was the first to see something there, not in the setting, but in the people, in their hearts. They burned with what he called the will of fire. And no matter how many times Tobirama had mocked him for such an original name, Hashirama knew that he felt the same way too. If he had to pinpoint one problem with the imperfect but perfect village, he would point the finger at his old friend, Madara. The man had been grumpy since spring, claiming that his clan had been skipped over and minimized in favor of the Senju clan, and all because the villagers had been unanimous in their decision to name Hashirama Hokage, such a big title for such an ordinary boy. Hashirama had tried to pass the position to Madara, thinking that it would quell the man's anger, but Madara had been quick to refuse, stating that he wanted people to choose him, that he didn't want the position out of pity. Sometimes he could be absolutely impossible, and Hashirama loved him anyway.

He knew it when the seasons changed, when hot, unforgiving temperatures eased and the leaves changed to vibrant shades of orange, yellow, and red. He knew it when the first soaking rain announced the end of long, humid nights, where crickets and cicadas spent whole nights buzzing with life. It was fall when the academy finally opened, the school where everyone, regardless of origins, whether shinobi or civilian, could learn the shinobi arts. Where the village embodied peace, the rest of the world still craved war. And it was natural, Tobirama insisted, because not everyone had Hashirama's heart, not everyone shared Hashirama's vision. But he wanted them to, how he wanted them to. It was fall when the village faced its hardest challenge yet -- the need for allies. Islands thrived, but they were landlocked, and it meant that there would come a time when they had to defend their ideals. And it was Tobirama who suggested reaching out to the new village named Uzushiogakure, securing ties in a political way rather than Hashirama's way. They had hearts and minds, but somehow minds always outweighed in matters of the heart.

"It's a political strategy," Tobirama explained to him, his tenth time going over the lengthy paperwork the Uzumaki clan had sent them. Hashirama looked at the stipulations -- he truly did -- but the glaring issue was the fact that their paradise had no Uzumaki clan members in the ranks. Uzushio had no reason to trust them, or even trust that they had their best interests in mind. "It's a small price to pay," Tobirama assured, repeating himself again. "Anija?"

"I guess I understand," Hashirama replied, words slow and careful. He understood, but that didn't mean he liked what he'd read or what Tobirama had explained. "It's an arranged marriage," Hashirama frowned, pencil tapping against the thick pile of papers. "They want to offer me one of the clan leader's daughters in an effort to secure their position with us. They don't want you, just me."

"I would do this for you, if I could," Tobirama frowned, pulling a chair over to the large desk. They'd gone over the paperwork together. Tobirama had always been the studious one, not him. "This is something we need to consider."

"We aren't the only two people involved in maintaining this village," Hashirama easily said, already getting to his feet. He stretched, joints popping, providing him relief. He'd been in the office too long. He wanted to see the villagers. An elected Hokage shouldn't be cooped up in the office all day. "I'll take these to Madara. Maybe he'll agree, and maybe he won't."

"You know he only cares about himself, the same as his clan."

"Don't. How many times do I have to tell you to be welcoming and inclusive. The Uchiha clan is here to stay. They're human, just like the rest of us. Their only crime is their passion for life, and it's refreshing."

"Only you could think of Madara as refreshing."

Konohagakure. Tobirama had yet to accept the village name, and Hashirama knew it was because Madara had been tasked with finding a suitable name. Hashirama knew there was bad blood between them, but he'd always wondered if their connection to him would allow them to smooth things over. So far, they still fought like cats and dogs. Hashirama flashed his brother a bright smile, gathered all of the paperwork, and bid him a quick goodbye. Unlike most shinobi, Hashirama actually used the door.

As he walked along the village streets, he saw men and women working together to add structures to the wood foundations he'd put up only yesterday. Most of the tent villages had been replaced by homes, but they still had a quarter of the village to complete, and then began construction of the wall, since both Tobirama and Madara declared that it wasn't a true hidden village without a thick, stone wall. It was an occasion to see them agreeing on something other than their mutual bitterness. Madara claimed he would never forgive _that Senju scum_ for killing his brother, Izuna, while Tobirama claimed he would never forgive _that Uchiha filth_ for killing his family members. Hashirama thought they were both ridiculous, and for the longest time, he thought they'd been jealous of one another or simply in denial about their love for one another. Hashirama had made the mistake of asking Tobirama and the man had turned as red as the markings on his face. At first, out of embarrassment, and then out of anger. Hashirama got a good laugh, so he'd tried the same thing with Madara and Madara sent a fireball at him, destroying a portion of what would be shinobi training grounds. It had been funny, but not worth it. Repairing the damage had taken days.

Tobirama might have been able to follow Madara's chakra signature -- which he claimed reminded him of sludge -- but Hashirama just knew, as if they were bound together, each one half of a whole. Unsurprisingly, he found Madara at his home, deep into the Uchiha section of the village. Clan members had grown to treat Hashirama with respect, and he had a feeling it was because they'd been tired of the constant war. Madara hadn't wanted peace, but he hadn't wanted a lot of things. And even though the man was often surly, Hashirama laughed off Madara's bad moods. He liked to think he brought sunlight into Madara's life, as Madara served as the moon in his life. He hoped that discussing the marriage proposal would encourage Madara to confess, or at least force the man to consider the feelings they obviously shared. Standing outside of Madara's door, waiting for the man to answer, he wondered if the stubborn man would even have it in him to admit the feelings to himself.

"Hashirama," Madara greeted him, eyes straying to the pile of papers in his grasp. He sneered at them. "You mean to tell me the great Tobirama was unable to help you?"

"I value your opinion. How many times do I have to tell you?" He laughed at Madara's momentary surprise, then simply moved around the man and entered into the home uninvited. Behind him, Madara sputtered, clearly torn between scolding him or letting his normal behavior slide. "What smells so delicious?" Hashirama had removed his sandals and easily breezed through the house to the kitchen.

"Hey! I didn't welcome you into my house to eat my food!"

"You won't offer your guest any refreshments?"

"Hashirama."

"Madara."

Madara stood in the center of the kitchen for a long minute, then he sighed through his nose and began to prepare two plates of unadon. Hashirama smiled at him and he muttered words under his breath, likely insults, but nothing removed the smile from the Senju's face. Madara had Hashirama gather the chopsticks, then they walked together into the formal dining room. It wasn't the place for papers, but there were papers strewn across the low table and an indentation on the zabuton showing that Madara had, at one point, been sitting there for a length of time. Madara scooped up the papers and placed them aside, so Hashirama sat his own papers aside as well. Madara wasn't one for conversation during a meal, but Hashirama enjoyed talking a great deal, so while Hashirama shared updates on the building progress and the start of classes at the academy, Madara routinely grunted. 

"Why are there so many papers?" Hashirama made a move to touch one, so Madara lashed out and slapped the back of Hashirama's hand with his chopsticks. "Ouch! That hurt," Hashirama pouted. In a lightning-fast move, Hashirama snagged one of the papers and skimmed over the words. "Marriage proposals? It seems like fall is the time to do it."

"The clan head approves marriages, so I have to handwrite approvals or rejections. It takes more time to write the rejections," Madara explained, snatching the paper from Hashirama. "Why did you decide to grace me with your presence?"

"Ah, glad you asked!" Hashirama nudged his empty bowl aside, then moved Madara's half-eaten food out of reach, which the man protested by trying to snag it back.

Hashirama collected his papers and handed the stack to Madara, watching the man's right brow twitch. There were pages upon pages there, so Hashirama knew how the Uchiha felt. If it weren't for Tobirama, he might have skimmed them all and signed himself away without a single thought. But Tobirama knew that. His younger brother was amazing that way. Madara carefully read over the pages; while he did, Hashirama went to refill their cups with more warm tea. The more Madara read, the deeper his frown grew, until he finally tossed the last page aside, as if he didn't care about the stipulation at all. Hashirama wondered if he'd been mistaken. It was extremely rare for same-sex couples, and none were in main bloodlines. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted. Even though he appealed to hearts, everyone made mistakes. Madara took a long drink of his tea, set the cup down on the table, and gave Hashirama an odd look, one the man couldn't describe.

"Well? There's nothing to it. Her name is Mito. She's an Uzumaki, second daughter to the clan head."

"Yes, I know that."

"It would benefit us to have allies. You said as much the last time I rejected a notion. Now we have the Hyuga scum in the village too."

"Must everyone be scum to you?" Hashirama laughed at Madara's flustered expression, because he knew that the man had a heart, beneath all of the barbed words and insults. He knew the Uchiha and Hyuga clans didn't get along, but they all made it work, and Hashirama was thankful. "I don't want to marry her. I'm not a supporter of that sort of marriage. I think it should be between people in love with one another."

"That kind of thing is rare now. Uchiha marry in the hopes of attaining the sharingan. You have the mokuton. It's the first time anyone has seen it before. Of course they'd want it for themselves," Madara shrugged, surprisingly polishing off his tea. Hashirama looked down into the cup he held, seeing his reflection even without seeing his reflection.

So he'd been wrong about Madara.

"I'm in love with someone. I'm not interested in a marriage for my bloodline or for a political agreement. I was hoping you would say something, but you're unbelievably stubborn, and I shouldn't have expected you to be any other way." 

Hashirama looked up from his tea and smiled, and Madara hated the expression with a passion, because he wasn't a fool, and that was as close to a confession he was going to get without revealing something of his own feelings. Madara wrinkled his nose, trying to decide whether his own happiness made any difference. He still missed Izuna -- he missed his brother with a passion. Hashirama wasn't Tobirama, far from being Tobirama, and it wasn't fair of Madara to judge his old friend based on the anger he held for Tobirama. How long ago had he and Hashirama met? Years. They were both grown men, their old lifestyles behind them. Hashirama had it in him to forgive the Uchiha. Madara wondered if he had the same ability for himself. He did love Hashirama. And maybe he'd thought that they would have more time together, or maybe he thought he could burn his feelings with proverbial flames.

"I don't think you should marry her."

"Why?"

"You know very well why!"

"You love me," Hashirama grinned, the expression leaving Madara glowering. Hashirama laughed to himself, took a drink of tea, and resumed grinning, as if he'd finally won. Maybe he had. "Are you going to confess to me now?"

"No. Get the hell out of my house," Madara grunted, shoving all of the alliance papers in Hashirama's direction. Hashirama placed a hand over his and lightly squeezed, then began to organize the papers. "I hate you," Madara mumbled, turning his head away from his old friend. He supposed they were more than friends, at that point.

"We have the rest of our lives for you to get up the nerve to confess to me."

"You're still here?"

It was spring when Madara finally confessed to him, and it was as wonderful as he'd imagined.


End file.
